


Ben Hardy Sickfic (Harlee/Hardlee)

by softnsquishable



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hardlee, Harlee, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sick Ben, Sickfic, sick Ben Hardy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 02:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18378740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softnsquishable/pseuds/softnsquishable
Summary: I had an overwhelming urge to write some sick Ben being taken care of by Gwil. Lots of fluff, hurt/comfort, and oh, some feelings come out.





	Ben Hardy Sickfic (Harlee/Hardlee)

**Author's Note:**

> Never written for this fan base before, but I ship the fuck out of Hardlee/Hardlee and Maylor, so here!

The drumsticks had never felt heavier. The wig had never seemed sweatier or bigger, like the worst and stickiest part of a boiling summer day. Every tap on the drums, every note from the song, every little shriek and squeal and click from the guitars and the basses, they all just pierced his skull, sharper and sharper every time. The thudding didn’t help with the headache, or the aches that were starting to increase in other areas of his body.

If you couldn’t tell by now, Ben was definitely sick.

They were currently working on the studio bit for the Another One Bites The Dust montage. The boys had been at it for a while now, probably a few hours. Normally that was no big deal; Movie shoot, they worked basically all day and every day. It was routine by now, the boys were professionals and all, but today just wasn’t right for Ben. He had dismissed the early symptoms the night before, and now he was wishing he’d taken some Vitamin D.

It took a little while before Gwilym noticed something was off. Getting a glance at Ben, he’d thought he saw something off, so he took a better look. At that point, the taller man noticed the off color in the blonde’s complexion. Ben’s cheeks were somewhat rosy, though his other features were off the opposite way, a somewhat wan shade of pale. Gwil was positive he caught the “drummer” wincing, and he seemed to be struggling to keep time. Something was definitely off. 

“Cut, cut...sorry, I’ve fucked it up.” Rami shook his head, hitting his forehead with his palm. “Can we try again? From...maybe the second verse? And I feel like maybe I’m not doing enough-”

Gwilym took the opportunity to check on Ben. 

“You doing alright, mate?” he asked, shifting the guitar to one side as he looked Ben over.

“Dunno...not feeling too hot actually.” Ben’s voice sounded subdued and tired. He also didn’t look up when he spoke. He definitely seemed to be in pain. 

Gwilym’s brow furrowed in concern. He stepped behind the drums, slipping a hand under the blonde’s bangs to feel his forehead. Gwilym hissed a bit, pulling his hand away. 

“You must be over 38 degrees (celsius),” Gwil said, shaking his head. “You need to go and lay down, immediately.”

“No...we gotta get this shot done,” Ben reasoned, looking up for the first time, but his tired, puppy eyes only added to the case against him. “I’ll be fine...promise,” he added, before breaking out in a cough fit. 

“Yes, you will be, after you get some medicine and a good nap,” Gwilym stated matter of factly, taking the guitar off and setting it aside. 

He ignored any other small attempts at waving him off or Ben mumbling a protest, and simply plucked the younger man up, via an arm around his waist (other hand resting on Ben’s chest to keep him upright). The other boys had noticed by now, and they were as concerned as Gwil, just less observant. 

“What’s going on?” Joe asked, slipping his bass off.

“Yes, is something wrong with Ben?” Rami added, following them off the little stage. 

“Ben’s ill,” Gwilym clarified, taking him over to a nearby sofa and setting him down, while the subject of his sentence coughed again, softly groaning after. 

“Oh dear…” Bryan Singer wandered over, taking a good look at the sickly lad. “I think we’d better call it a day. He doesn’t seem up to any more work.”

“No, I’m taking him back to our hotel to get some sleep,” Gwilym agreed. 

“I can stop at a pharmacy or something to get him some acetaminophen or something,” Joe offered. 

“Yeah, Joe and I can take a different car,” Rami added. 

“Wonderful, lads, thank you.” Gwilym smiled grateful, then became serious again as he looked at Ben. “Now then, let’s get you out of that sweaty wig and outfit and into some proper clothes for relaxing and recovering.”

Ben only offered a little nod in response, letting Gwilym haul him up to his feet again. He was relieved not to be drumming any more, but he still hurt everywhere. He let Gwil take him into the dressing room, getting him undressed and carefully changed into some sweats and a t shirt he’d brought for later. Normally, Ben would’ve been quite red and embarrassed, being slipped into his sweatshirt like a little kid, but he was far too ill to very care. He was hardly even aware of what was going on, honestly. He just knew he was about to collapse and he definitely needed to lay down.

Gwilym didn’t bother changing. Maybe he slipped his vest off, but he didn’t even bother with his own wig for now. He scooped Ben up, not bothering with trying to get the man to stagger along any further, and carried up out of the studio and into the parking lot. Maybe he got a few looks, but he was only looking to one of their cars, sometimes to the trembling figure in his arms. Poor guy, honestly. Gwil hoped he’d be able to shake it sooner than later.   
***  
“No...please, no...don’t want it...n-no…”

He was someone dark and scary. There were shadowed figures everywhere, trying to touch him and hurt him. There were glowing eyes staring, voices whispering, seeing all his flaws and just tormenting him. He hated it. He was scared, he needed help, and no one was there.

Ben was having a nightmare.

Gwilym was a nervous observer as he gently dabbed a damp cloth over the sick man’s face and neck. The poor guy was extremely feverish, and he’d been mumbling and shifting in his sleep since they’d gotten him to the hotel. Rami and Joe had brought some medicine, true to their word, and they’d gotten Ben to take a bit (whether he was aware or not). It hadn’t seemed to do much, though, not yet anyways.

“Maybe he didn’t eat before,” Joe thought out loud. “Some medication is weird about whether you eat or don’t and stuff.”

“It probably just isn’t something instant,” Rami reasoned, and Gwil nodded in agreement. 

“I just hope it starts working sooner than later,” Gwilym said with a soft sigh. “He seems absolutely miserable…”

“I’m sure he’ll come around soon.” Rami uncrossed his arms where he’d been resting them, sli[[ing one into his pocket and wandering over. “We’re gonna go grab some dinner...I’m guessing you probably don’t want to come with?”

“No, I think it’s best that I don’t leave him alone,” Gwilym agreed, looking back up at Rami with an affirming nod. There was something in his eyes too, something nervous and attached. Not quite...fatherly, or friendly for that matter. No, something was there that seemed longing, a bit...loving. 

Rami got the picture. He nodded and patted his shoulder, then stepped back. 

“Well, uh...we’ll bring you something,” he said, leading Joe out the door. “Call us if you need us.”

“Will do,” Gwil promised, watching them go. 

Once the door clicked shut, his focus was back on Ben. Gwilym just wished there was more he could do. He felt quite helpless really, having to basically sit and watch while Ben seemed to be struggling to get by the bare minimum. Breathing, sleeping, just relaxing, it wasn’t supposed to all be such a battle. And yeah, maybe it was just a bad flu or cold or whatever, but Gwilym was still gonna fret and be overly worried, because even if he wasn’t dying, Ben was still hurting, and that still wasn’t necessary. 

“I wish I could make you better,” Gwil even found himself saying, softly brushing his fingers down Ben’s arm. 

At least the boy had stopped thrashing for now, he thought. Gwil was also getting quite tired himself at this point, rubbing his head, but having no intention of really sleeping. He’d just hold Ben’s hand, close his eyes and relax for a few moments. Just a few…

***

Gwilym wasn’t sure how he fell asleep, but he woke up quite suddenly. He looked around, taking a moment to remember where he was and what he was doing. The room was dark, quiet...the hotel room, right...and why wasn’t he in bed? 

The sound of the soft gasps and small whimpers snapped Gwil into reality. He turned back to the bed, and realizing it was the trembling form of Ben, sitting with his knees to his chest and crying, sometimes interrupted by a cough. Gwilym almost felt a little chip at his heart as he took the scene in. Poor thing. 

“What’s going on, Ben?” Gwil asked gently, moving to sit on the bed beside him. “Does is hurt?”

“I-I can do better...I-I pro-promise,” Ben stuttered, not looking up. 

“What do you mean, dear?” Gwilym slipped an arm around the feverish and damp (from sweat) form of the other. “Do what better?”

“I-I can do better,” Ben insisted, voice breaking. “I can do...I can finish the m-movie, please… d-don’t let them fire me.”

“Oh Ben, Ben…” Gwilym shook his head, pulling the sickly blonde into his chest. “No, darling, you've had a horrible dream. You're not being fired, you're the only person for the job.” 

“But...But I don't...I don't even look like Roger, and-and my voice is too deep, Brian hate-hates me and-and-” Ben was cut off by a coughing fit and another broken sob. 

“Ben, honey, look at me.” 

Gwilym gently put a hand under Ben's chin, tilting it up to make eye contact. Ben's eyes were full of tears, small rivers pouring over his flushed cheeks. Gwil's heart twinged chest at the sight. 

“Don't you doubt yourself out there, Ben,” Gwilym said, comfortingly but firmly. “Not for a second. No one, nobody in the world can bring Roger and Queen to life like you do. That's why you're doing it. Brian and Roger...you see how proud they are of you, they fully endorse you.” 

“You...You really mean that?” Ben asked, reminding Gwilym of a small child. 

“I do,” Gwilym promised with a sweet smile. “Now let's get some sleep, and you'll feel better in the morning, alright?” 

“Alright...but I'm not tired…” 

By the time Ben had finished that sentence, he was already passed out in Gwil's arms. Gwilym couldn't help himself from smiling softly. Thank God. Hopefully that medicine would kick in now. 

“Sweet dreams, Ben,” Gwilym whispered, shyly kissing his temple. He settled back against the head of the bed, pulling the blankets over them both. It didn't take much longer for Gwil to fall asleep too, the warmth and weight of Ben's body helping him ease into cozy slumbers. 

***

“Open wide, Ben.” 

Ben chuckled a little, but complied with the sing-song request, taking the bite of soup he was offered. After a good sleep and another dose of medication, Ben was feeling much better. He still had a chest ache and the boys weren't letting him leave bed that day, but at least his fever had broken. 

Oh, and of course the others had gotten pictures of the precious cuddles from the night before. Joe had posted a perfect shot right away. He'd thrown on some cheesy caption, probably referencing the lyrics of “friends will be friends” shamelessly (when Ben's in need of love, Gwil gives him LOTS of care and attention). It had made both boys blush, but they were close. They got past it easily enough. 

“You know...my arms work,” Ben noted, between the bites that (big surprise) Gwilym was feeding him. 

“Nonsense. We don't want you to be lifting a /finger/ till you've healed properly.” Gwilym nodded strictly, but gave him a little smile and a wink, just to remind him that he was playing. 

“Ew, why don't you kiss about it?” Joe teased, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“And get his germs?” Gwilym pretended to gag. “Gross.” 

“You cuddled me all night, Mr. Clean,” Ben pointed out, quirking and eyebrow and crossing his arms. There was an amused sort of smirk on his lips. 

“Well, I...that's...that's a different level on contact, quite different than kissing,” Gwil stated, trying to disguise the fact that he was just a bit flustered by the thought. 

“Are you blushing again?” Ben chuckled, covering with his hand as it turned into a cough. 

“Serves you right for laughing at me,” Gwilym said flatly, poking his cheek. “Instant karma.” 

“You hush,” Ben replied, pursing his lips. “I'm ill, you're meant to be waiting on me.” 

“Says the boy who wanted to feed himself,” Gwil mocked gently, stirring the little styrofoam cup. 

“That's different,” Ben insisted, still pouting. 

“You best stop sticking out your lips like that, or they made get stuck there,” Gwilym warned. 

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do to stop me?” Ben said, not changing expression, but tilting his head. 

Gwilym didn't hesitate for a moment, pecking the perfect, pink lips that were practically begging for it. Ben sort of stared for a moment, right at Gwil, while the older shyly looked down, then right back up into those big, captivating eyes. That was...unexpected. 

“What that it then?” Ben asked, quickly and quietly. 

“I'm sorry?” Gwil said, perplexed. “I'm...that was wh-”

Ben didn't give him a chance to finish his thought, instead grabbing the taller man by the face and pulling him down, kissing him /hard/. Gwilym was shocked, eyes going wide, but quickly shutting as he kissed him back. Even when Ben released his hold, pulling back to breathe, he was still blown away by what had just happened. 

“I...that...wow…” 

“Now you've /definitely/ got my germs,” Ben said smugly. 

“Oh boo,” Gwilym muttered, crossing his arms.

“Aw, don't worry, Gwil.” Joe squeezed his shoulders. “I'm sure Ben will be there the whole time to help you feel better, wontcha Benny Boy?” 

“I don't think there'll be a problem there, no.” Ben leaned back into the pillows, giving them both a knowing nod and a wink. 

Gwilym was blushing himself now, while Ben and Joe both giggled. Damn those guys, edging him out of the closet. But how could he help it honestly? He’d been stricken with Ben from day one, pretty thing that he was, and when he dressed as Roger, with all those open shirts...those pouty lips had become too much to resist. 

Because even if Gwilym fainted on set two days later, it wasn’t so bad. Ben didn’t leave his side, and since he was already sick once (“I’m immune to your germs now, can’t catch them twice”) he wasn’t afraid to kiss Gwil again...and again....and again...


End file.
